The Way I Are
by ShatteredTruth
Summary: Why are people the way they are? Is it their upbringing, their friends, or an involuntary choice? Here is a look into the characters of Degrassi, and why they are the way they are. R&R please!
1. Alex: To Whom Evil is Done

**Disclaimer: I do not own Degrassi. Unfortunately. Also, this fic deals with mature content and viewer discretion is advised. Some events may not have actually occurred on the show, and the things you don't remember happening are things that I implied and have written down. Don't sue me for it ;)**

Plot: _Just a bunch of one shots about why people are the way they are. I may have the chapters connect at one point once I write all of 'em._**_  


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_I and the public know / What all schoolchildren learn / Those to whom evil is done / Do evil in return._

Alex Nuñez stared hard at herself in the cracked mirror of her broken home. Piercing dark eyes stared back at her, unblinking, for two minutes. A single tear dripped poetically down her face and she walked out of the bathroom, slamming the door angrily. No matter what she did, she always did it wrong. She was tired of looking in the mirror and hating what she saw. It was not her looks that tormented, no. She was shallow, but not that shallow. But what she saw in the mirror was a look of torment and pure hatred. She knew deep down that hurting others because she had been hurt so many times was wrong, but she could not stop it.

The dark-eyed beauty had hurt so many people. Her mother, her friends, her lover. Paige. Condescending, bitchy, wonderful Paige. Who would have thought the over-achiever and under-achiever would have become friends, let alone lesbian lovers. She walked into the room towards her bed and flopped down on her back, staring at the cracked ceiling. It mirrored her mirror. She even saw herself in it, and rolled onto her stomach, burying her face in her pillow. Alex had done a lot of stupid things. She had cut class, been high, stoned, and drunk all in one night. Gotten an STD from her ex-boyfriend, turned said ex-boyfriend into a confidant, turned into a lesbian, and became a stripper. This all happened in the course of a year or so.

But this, this mistake really took the cake. Not only had she stripped to keep the cracked apartment, but her mother - her own mother - had used it to bail out that son of a bitch. She had seen what he did to her. Alex remembered bandaging her mother up after her and Chad had gotten into a fight. She remembered holding her mom while she cried because Chad had left her again. She remembered feeling bad for her mom and doing everything she could to please her.

But then she remembered other nights. Nights where Chad had come back to them and hit her. Nights where she had to bandage her own cuts. Nights where she had cried herself to sleep because she had been hurt - mentally and physically - so badly. Where had her mother been when she needed her? She remembered her mother saying she was the only thing she had ever gotten right, and lately Alex was very indifferent to that statement. Her mother had fucked up a lot. Like mother, like daughter. Alex, at least, was trying to change, but her mother and Chad had taught her what pain was. Some called it tough love, but to Alex, it was life.

She was harder now, though the tough girl exterior was diminishing a bit. The feeling of hatred to others and herself was rooted into her so deeply she didn't think it'd ever fade. It was tied into her tendons and looped around her bones. Everywhere she went, everyone she met, she hurt. And it was usually unintentional. And hurting Paige, well, that was different. Paige had hurt her so Alex had to return the favor. Every word that she had said, every glare she had given her had just happened. She couldn't help it. She had tried to stop though, tried to stop hurting the only person who she cared about. But like everyone else in her life, she hurt her. And she hurt her so badly, that she had left.

Alex blinked and turned onto her side, clutching the pillow to her chest. Stripping had been dumb but hurting Paige had been even worse. Hurting people had been a way of defense, a way of gaining power, some say. But she had never really wanted it. Fucking over others wasn't her main goal in life. Not that she had goals. And without Paige, she didn't see herself having a future, either.

She recalled telling this to Paige once, why she thought she hurt people. And the blonde-haired wonder had just smiled and said, "I like you just the way you are." If only she could like herself now, but as Paige said, or rather, didn't say, it was just the way she was.

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So what do you think? A review would be amazing. More to come! If you guys like where this is heading, please tell me. The next chapter will be Ellie's.


	2. Ellie: Let Me Fall

**Author's Note: **Sorry for the lack of update. That pesky real life thing got in the way, haha. Hugs to _**Caffeine Productions**_ and _c__**ontentment is beautiful**_ for the wonderful reviews. This takes place after 'Jesse's Girl'.

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_Let me feel, I don't care if I break down / Let me fall, even if I hit the ground / If I cry a little and die a little / At least I know I lived just a little.  
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'_Way to fuck up royally,' _Ellie Nash thought to herself as she sat on her bed, crumpled tissues and plastic cups littered around her. She downed the last of her drink and added the red cup to the pile of trash, disgusted with herself and fighting the urge to throw up. Boss Man, as Jesse had once been affectionately called, had cheated on her with her mentor. Well, her ex-mentor. And instead of handling it calmly, she had called said ex-mentor a slut on stage in front of a live studio audience. How professional of her.

The ex-mentor in question, Caitlyn Ryan, had come to apologize that morning. Her words had no effect on the fiery red-head, and within minutes of her departure, Ellie had done something she had sworn she would never do. She drank. And she drank a lot. There were at least six cups scattered at her feet, all of which had been filled with some alcoholic beverage. Now, drunk out of her mind, the college frosh sat on her bed and yelled at herself until she burst into tears.

She recalled something incredibly similar to this situation occurring many years ago. She remembered sitting on her bed, crying, tissues and razors and knives scattered around her bed. It had been the eighth time she cut herself. That time, though, she had gone a little deeper then planned. It hurt a little more than usual. And she had enjoyed it. That thought had made her sick and she yelled at herself until she cried. The next day she was enrolled in Group Therapy.

That day had been hell. Ellie remembered sitting on the hard plastic chair, snapping a rubber band on her wrist until the leader asked her, point blank, why she cut. Her answer had surprised her. "I cut," she had said, "because it is the one pain I can control." The leader had looked on encouragingly and before she knew what she was doing, the whole story came out. "My mother is an alcoholic and my father is away in the army. My mother's drinking hurts. My absent dad hurts. They both hurt me. Everyone hurts me," she had said bitterly.

The leader offered a consoling look and she continued. "It's control and power. Because for once, I can decide how much I feel like hurting. No one else is hurting me, it's just... me." The leader had frowned at this though, and told her to stay after the session ended. And she had, being the dutiful girl she was. She couldn't remember exactly what he had said, but she went home that night and cut herself for the ninth and final time. People would always hurt her, and she'd just have to suck it up. When it came down to it, she hurt herself more than others hurt her.

She remembered telling Craig that even though she may never cut again, she'd always be a cutter. And that was true, but it went deeper than that. She would always put herself down and beat herself up, and the emotional scars she put herself through were way worse than the physical ones.

A knock on the door pulled Ellie out of her thoughts. "Yes?" she asked, her voice cracking.

"It's Marco. Can I come in?" her best friend and roommate asked timidly.

She didn't respond, and he came in anyway. He sat on her bed and held her as she cried. "It's okay, Elle. It's okay. Don't beat yourself up so much, this isn't your fault," he said comfortingly. And even though she wanted to believe him, she couldn't. The philosophy of beating herself up mentally was embedded so deeply, she didn't think she could ever break the habit. While she wouldn't put a blade to her wrist, the torment she put herself through would always be with her. She was a cutter, that's what she was. And she would always be one.

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Please review! The next chapter will be Marco's.

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	3. Marco: Stay

**Author's Note****:** Okay, I know I haven't updated in almost a year. I don't even know why I'm continuing this, as I probably won't stick with it. So I'm not promising another chapter, but be on the look out in the next year or so for one ;] If anyone's reading this, thank you. And thank you to those that reviewed so very long ago. This chapter is for you.

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_Why don't you stay?/I'm down on my knees/I'm so tired of being lonely/Don't I give you what you need?_

"Go to sleep, honey. It's okay, I promise," Marco said as he tucked Ellie in. The red-head flailed around drunkenly and began to protest. "No buts, sweetie. Go to sleep. Everything will be fine," he interjected, kissing her on the forehead and exiting the room.

He walked into his own room and crumpled on his bed, pounding his pillow like an angry six-year-old who can't control their emotions yet. "Dammit," he cried, curling up into a ball. He was so tired of cleaning up another person's mess. Holding another person's hand when they cried. Being the good friend, the brother. That last one was his favorite. The brother. That's what Dylan had told him two nights ago when he broke it off for the sixth time or so. 'Marco,' he had said, grabbing his hands, 'I can't do this. This past year... I see you more as a brother than a boyfriend. I'm sorry.' And then the bastard had walked off. When he had come home he had no one to console him. Paige was moping about Alex, Ellie was off at some party, and Griffin was asleep.

It was fine and dandy for them to barge into his rooms while he was asleep or studying with their problems, but God forbid they return the favor. He was so tired of being neglected, of feeling the emptiness deep within himself.

Even through his Degrassi years, he had always been the one everyone came to for help. Craig was diagnosed with Bipolar disorder and trashed Ashley's fathers' wedding? Fine, he was there to console him. Jimmy couldn't play basketball anymore? No problem, Marco would help him through. Spinner had lost all of his friends? Worry not, he was still there.

Everyone had burdened their problems on him, but whenever he had one it was as if he ceased in existence. Even when he was in the process of coming out, his friends hadn't been 100% behind his back as he had been in the past.

"No good deed goes unpunished, yeah?" he roared, flinging his pillow off the bed. He didn't care if he woke Ellie up. He was done being sympathetic and understanding. He was done being the 'good friend' who was always there for everyone all the fucking time no matter what the cost. All he wanted was for someone to return the fucking favor. It was common courtesy. Why the fuck was it so hard to get? After all, Marco was no different than the majority of the friends he had helped, except that he was, well, gay.

Reflecting a moment, he picked up his pillow and shoved it under his head. Perhaps that was why Marco had been so understanding. The 'gay' factor. He knew what it was like to be viewed as a freak, a sinner, immoral. He knew what it was like to felt alone and hated. And since he obviously hated those emotions, he never wanted his friends to experience them.

Maybe it was okay that he was the sympathetic one. The rock of his friends. They needed one, so that they would never feel as ostracized as he had. And it's not like they were complete assholes. After Ellie had woken up hung over the day after Dylan dumped him, she had cleaned up his room. That was a sweet, unsaid gesture. Looking back, he now remembered a lot of other times people had done similar things for him.

'_Well aren't you a whiny bitch_,' he mused, a bit annoyed with himself.

Marco abruptly got off his bed and exhaled away all the bad emotions. He wandered into the kitchen, made a cup of black coffee, grabbed three chocolate chip cookies, and placed them on Ellie's nightstand. She needed him now, and he would help her. It was simply just the way he was.


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